


Pulling Focus (at 123 miles per hour)

by otherwiseestella



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Car stealing, Eggsy Unwin is a Little Shit, Established Relationship, Hot Wiring, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Polyamory, Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 14:26:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17408597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otherwiseestella/pseuds/otherwiseestella
Summary: Merlin needs to find a distraction so that the press don't pick up on a Kingsman mission at Buckingham Palace, and Eggsy has an excellent idea.The tiny plot bunny is based on a headline I hugely enjoyed on the BBC News website: 'Driver going 123 miles per hour "just wanted kebab".' I really felt it was too wonderful to let slide.





	Pulling Focus (at 123 miles per hour)

The problem, Merlin explains, irritation beginning to thread through his tone, isn’t the mission itself.

‘Buckingham Palace, broad daylight, on Prince Charles’ birthday’, he repeats, as if explaining it to a room of extremely dim children. ‘Its not the job that’s going to be tricky, its getting everyone in and out without becoming a bloody headline.’

They’re shorter on the ground after V-Day, and whereas usually they’d have recent recruits running interference, minor incidents to make the papers wherever they are, ensure the missions go unreported, everyone’s currently on active duty.

‘Got an idea, yeah?’ 

‘Anything’s welcome, Galahad’, he says, and files the pleasure he feels away for later. Eggsy rarely speaks up during central briefing. He’s plenty of ideas – too many, often – but he tends to prefer to email them, or discuss them with Roxy first. 

Eggsy outlines it, and Merlin can feel the other Knights tensing. Percival looks downright disapproving, and even Lancelot ends up giving him a wary gaze.

‘… ‘n am going to need to drive it into the Thames, so probably one you don’t mind parting with.’

Later, Merlin is going to bite deeply into the tender part of Eggsy’s shoulder, just below the shoulder blade, whilst he’s working three fingers inside Harry, and whisper ‘You are a fucking menace, Unwin. Have you ever laid eyes on a car you didn’t want to ruin?’, and Eggsy’s going to make a noise so obscene that Harry can feel the vibrations of it inside him.

But it works. As with most of Eggsy’s plans, which sound too ludicrous to credit, then go off like extraordinary, glamorous clockwork, it feels like a dreadful idea until the very last second. And then suddenly half the live reporters are pulled to London Bridge, and at least one of the helicopters they’ve got over Buck House veers away, all so they can interview some wide-boy with a shit-eating grin, whose cap is pulled way down low, who is watching a neon-yellow Mazarati sink slugglishly into the filthy water.

He’s all mumbles and foot-shuffling as he stands on the side of the road, a perfectly dry, neatly-wrapped kebab still clutched in his hands. ‘Honestly, bruv’, he says to Huw Edwards, who has apparently been green-lighted all the way across London for the interview. ‘It weren’t even my fault. All I wanted was a kebab, and I’d no idea, yeah, thought they’d concreted over the Thames after the Industrial Revolution or something.’

Every news channel plays it that night, sparing barely five minutes for the goings-on at the palace, leaving only time to talk about the beautiful footwork of the horses and the full salute, neatly sidestepping any possible mention of the muffled gunshots that could be very clearly heard during the dressage, despite Bors best attempts at subtlety.

He’s all modesty at HQ afterwards, wouldn’t even think about dining out on it, he’s a gentleman now, after all, but he does let himself smile when Roxy compliments his ability to hotwire a car in broad daylight, outside the house of an ex-head of security. The other Knights murmur similar praise in corridors, and Merlin watches the slight swagger it puts into his walk.

He saves his triumphant face for when they’re at home, later, lets Harry kiss him stupid, cosset him and call him his clever boy. 

Merlin waits until they’re lying, hot and sated, Eggsy’s fingers just touching his, his other arm slung across Harry’s chest. ‘Nicely done, Eggsy’, he says, and watches as his face lights up. Wonders, just for a second, if Eggsy has any idea how brilliant he is, really. He doesn’t tell him, but settles instead for a rare, fond kiss.

‘I can hotwire anything you like, if its gonna get me kisses like that’, Eggsy murmurs, sleepily, and is down in seconds.


End file.
